


The Art of Caring

by thesolemneyed



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Brief Mentions Of Vomit, Comfort, Drabble, Gen, Illnesses, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesolemneyed/pseuds/thesolemneyed
Summary: Pylades: I’ll take care of you.Orestes: It’s rotten work.Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.”―Anne Carson, Euripides
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Seventeen Holidays





	The Art of Caring

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another 17Hols fill hehe
> 
> I LOVE this quote, how could I not !?

He felt weak in the morning as soon as they’d been woken up, his legs liquid and his stomach turning over at the sight of the eggy mess Mingyu chucked onto his plate. 

In the car to the salon, he'd rested his head against the cool glass, feeling the tremors of the car push through him, feeling his body push back. He'd drifted off quickly and Jun had woken him with what he knew was meant to a gentle nudge to the ribs - he often required them to get out of the car in the mornings - that felt like a blow. 

Collapsing into his seat inside and drifting back into the haze between awake and asleep, the nodding of his head had jolted him once again into reality. “Hey,” Seungcheol planted a heavy hand on his shoulder, the pressure reassuring. “Are you okay?” 

Chan nodded vaguely. “Just feeling a little under the weather. It’s nothing serious.” He hated being the weak link in the chain, the reason the whole group had to slow their pace or risk missing a step. 

Seungcheol met his eyes in the mirror and Chan tried to keep his gaze steady even as he choked down a cough. He was pretty sure Seungcheol noticed. “Okay, as long as you’re sure.” His voice was doubtful. 

The recording that followed was a slow kind of gentle torture, like being very gently roasted over an open fire. 

His stomach churned as he laughed at Seokmin’s jokes and his head pounded as Soonyoung and Seungkwan bickered across him. The smell of samgyeopsal cooking in the corner as a ‘reward’ made bile creep into his chest even as he cheered along with the others at the promise of eating it. 

The shoot finally, finally drew to a close and Chan let himself relax a little. He wiped the sweat pricking on his forehead on the back of his sleeve - earning a gentle reproach from a stylist - and flopped into a chair, half listening to the excited sounds of his members squabbling over food. 

“Not having any?” There was a smudge of a stain on Wonwoo’s chin. 

Chan shook his head. “Mingyu gave me the biggest pile of eggs before we left.” He tried to pull his lips into a convincing grin. 

Wonwoo hummed as he sat down opposite him. “Yeah, and you didn’t eat any of those either.” Chan tried not to look surprised at Wonwoo’s keen observation. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Chan sighed, “I just feel a bit crappy. I’ve taken something for it so I should feel okay by practice.” 

A cool hand against his forehead surprised him. “I knew you looked weird.” Chan looked up to see Jeonghan leaning over him, balancing a plate of meat in the other hand. “I always know when you look weird.

Chan frowned, wanting to nip the rumour about his weakness I the bud before it could take root. “Hyung, I’m fine. It’s a cold or something.” He straightened in his chair. “I can look after myself.” His frown deepened when he heard the pout in his own voice and the action made him realise his head was pounding. 

“Have some food then.” Jeonghan waved the greasy plate under Chan’s nose and he turned his face away as his stomach lurched. “See?” Chan knew Jeonghan wasn’t talking to him any more. “I told you so.”

Seungcheol hummed from his position at Chan’s shoulder, although Chan wasn’t sure when exactly he’d arrived. “I think it might be best if you miss practice today, Chan.” 

Panic added to the queasiness in Chan’s belly. “I _can’t_.”

He was cut off before he could complain further. “Go home, sleep this off, and come back better tomorrow. If you try to push through you’ll just feel worse in the long run.” Seungcheol’s voice was firm and already fading as he marched off to pass the message on to their manager. 

The cool hand reappeared, this time on Chan’s neck. He closed his eyes, sinking into it. “He’s right, Chan.” Jeonghan’s voice was much softer, more pacifying. “Besides, it’s not like you won’t be able to catch up.”

Chan made a noise in the back of his throat, letting himself rest drowsily for now against Jeonghan’s frame. He could hear the first noises of managers chivvying the members along into cars, amiable reminders about forgotten phones and calls for the front seats. 

The car was quiet on the ride to the practice room, the members clearly warned about Chan’s condition. Although it was considerate and did help his headache some, the small part of Chan which resented being the youngest prickled at this coddling. 

They pulled to a stop and the car swayed as the members disembarked. Almost automatically, Chan moved to follow, but Seungcheol’s stern face appeared in the door. “ _Home_ , Chan.” He grabbed the door handle, moving to pull it shut. “Get some rest and feel better, yeah?” 

Chan nodded as the sound of the door closing reverberated through him. He watched Seungcheol shepherd the last, straggling members into the building, saw Soonyoung turn to wave dramatically at the car as it pulled away, and turned back to drift through the rest of the journey.

Back in the dorm, he waved off his manager’s questions about medicine and food; he’d had some of the former and the thought of the latter made his stomach boil. 

Instead, not bothering to remove his jeans, he flung himself onto his bed, kicking his legs until they were under the covers. His pillow smelt like his shampoo and he pressed his face into it as he let himself sink into rest. 

A churning feeling made Chan fling his eyes open. His headache from before was a sharp pain now, and his body felt slick with sweat. More alarmingly, though, his stomach was doing somersaults inside him and Chan knew he was seconds away from spewing.

Without time to run to the bathroom, he grabbed the bin from beside his bed and aimed his face inside it.

He felt a little better for throwing up, his stomach no longer a mass of worms, but his limbs still felt like hollow tubes. Fully aware of his own grossness, he abandoned the bin on the floor and collapsed back onto the bed. His sweat was cooling on his skin making his clothes stick to his skin. He shivered, whimpering a little, feeling shame curl in him at how pitiful he felt. 

“Oh, Channie.” Jeonghan’s voice was gentle from the doorway, but Chan just rolled away onto his side. 

“Hyung, don’t you have practice?” Exhaustion made him sound sulkier than he felt. 

The bed dipped where Jeonghan settled himself, rubbing Chan’s shoulder. “I told Seungcheol I didn’t feel right leaving you here to look after yourself.” 

He knew it was intended to be comforting, but the words irked Chan. “I’m not a baby, hyung,” he grumbled, resisting Jeonghan’s hand where it was trying to pull him into him. “Go back to practice.” 

He tried to pull the blanket out from where Jeonghan was sitting on it, but Jeonghan just chuckled. “If you’re not a baby, don’t act like one.” He patted Chan’s arm before pulling it more forcefully so he had no choice other than to sit up. “Come on, I’m already missing practice. At least let me look after you a little so I can defend myself.”

Chan pouted, but let Jeonghan peel his sweaty shirt over his head. It was nice to be free from the damp material and his worries felt lighter, far away already. “I was sick in the bin as well,” he admitted, unable to meet Jeonghan’s eye. 

“Oh dear.” Jeonghan didn’t sound phased. “Don’t worry about that, I can sort it out. Pop these on.” He tossed some pyjamas onto Chan’s legs, thin cotton ones that felt good against his skin. 

Not even pulling a face, Jeonghan disappeared with the bin while Chan wrestled his way out of his jeans. Energy spent, he gazed at the ceiling until he heard movement in his room again. “You really don’t think I’m being a baby?” His voice sounded weak.

Jeonghan huffed. “What do you mean?” 

“You guys all get sick and you don’t need to take time off practice.” A tear slipped out of Chan’s eye, running into his hair and over the shell of his ear. “I should have just pushed through.” 

The bed dipped again, this time with Jeonghan on Chan’s other side, shuffling until his back was pressed against the wall, one hand stroking across Chan’s forehead. “You’re not a baby, Chan, you’re ill.” Chan sniffled, feeling a little pathetic. “Besides, you’re forgetting when we all thought Vernon had food poisoning and made him report that nice restaurant we’d been to, but it just turned out he’d eaten a whole pot of expired yoghurt.” Chan smiled at the memory, even if it was kind of gross. “We all need to take some time off sometimes, and that’s okay.” 

Jeonghan’s fingers moved down into Chan’s hair, scratching against his scalp. “I’m sorry I made you clear up more vomit,” Chan mumbled, the words losing shape in his mouth. 

His bedroom was warm around him and the feeling of Jeonghan’s nails against his head sent him tumbling down a cliff towards the pool of sleep. He felt Jeonghan chuckle against him. “I don’t mind, Channie, not if it’s you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Come hang with me on twitter (@thesolemneyed)


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